


Here

by coinseller



Series: “Park Jihoon is handsome” – Lai Guanlin (a collection of panwink short stories) [10]
Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Romance, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Underage Drinking, dont question my thought process regarding the backstory bc idk too, i need panwink smooches to sustain me or i start having withdrawals, kisses what plot, literally this is just a makeout session, more like underage single sip of alcohol, obnoxious coincidences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 18:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20625353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coinseller/pseuds/coinseller
Summary: Guanlin doesn’t like parties. Until he goes to one.





	Here

**Author's Note:**

> my fics are getting repetitive and for that, im sorry sksdkksd
> 
> I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO TITLE THIS FIC AT FIRST BC IM BORING AND UNCREATIVE BUT I WAS LIKE “dam this fic reminds me of that one song here by alessia cara” so here we are
> 
> Just a warning this is one of Those Fics. as in, one of the fics that I pulled out of my ass and wrote from 11pm-6am while I still have a shit ton of hw to do so its prolly not gonna be all that great grammatically… _or mechanically_… u h … maybe read this in 24 hours when I go back to fix it LMAOOO /SWEATS  
ENJOY ANYWAY! LOL

Guanlin, in short, doesn’t like parties.

It’s been almost an hour since he’s arrived and all he’s done is wander from room to room, trying to find a place where he can stand and not feel Super Awkward. He’s ended up outside, but it’s pointless because he still feels out of place.

Guanlin doesn’t know why he agreed to go in the first place, but his floormates at the boy’s freshmen-only dormitory he stays at convinced him somehow, saying things like_ ‘It’s our first college party!’ ‘We have to go!’_ and _‘Guanlin, you never go out. Just this once, please? You’ll have fun!’_

He should have expected it to end up like this.

The second they arrived at the mansion somewhere about 30 minutes from campus, his floormates immediately dispersed in different directions, getting sucked into the masses of students and never to be seen again. He briefly wonders how they’re doing, because Guanlin feels like a child lost in an amusement park. It sucks. Who even hosts a party 2 weeks into the first semester?

What’s worse is that he clearly overdressed for this event, too, choosing out a dark red button up and black slacks to match. Guanlin feels like he sticks out like a sore thumb because everyone’s dressed so casually—heck, some people are barely even wearing anything—but in his defense, he’s never been to big parties like this. _Nor does he plan to ever again_. He’s thankful that someone passed him a plastic cup filled with some suspicious, vibrant blue liquid earlier—Guanlin hasn’t drank from it yet and doesn’t quite plan to, but everyone else has a cup like this too, so at least he’s starting to blend in a bit more than he previously was. _He thinks_.

Guanlin suddenly feels the urge to get back to the dorms and continue watching dramas in bed. He prays to whatever gods are listening that he’ll find one of his floormates soon.

With a sigh, the tall boy continues on his aimless stroll around the property.

The mansion is crazy massive—Guanlin doesn’t even know who it belongs to—but what’s even crazier is that there are people _everywhere._ He doesn’t even think these many students are enrolled in his University.

Upstairs, people dance to loud, bass-heavy music, where bodies are pressed so close together, Guanlin thinks that if the windows were to explode, streams of people would pour from the openings like water.

Downstairs, there are people making out in corners and strategic places around games of beer pong, flip cup, and beer roulette. And outside, there’s a pool where hundreds of people are crowded like that scene from the Great Gatsby.

Guanlin decides to try his luck on the first floor so he steps inside through one of the huge glass sliding doors.

It’s gotten stuffier since the last time he wandered around in here, despite that all the windows are open. The place is trashed and the wood floor is sticky, trembling with each pound from the speakers one floor up—it reeks of sweat and alcohol.

He doesn’t have to make it far into the crowd when he suddenly feels a pair of thin arms wrap loosely around his shoulders. It makes him drop his cup, startled. He wasn’t quite prepared for some random girl to lean all her weight onto his side, forcing Guanlin to grab her by the underarms to somehow hold her upright—_it’s not working all that great._

“Hiiii,” She slurs, eyes barely open and a stupid grin on her face.

Guanlin replies unsurely, “Um, hello.”

“You’re cute, wanna take me somewhere?” She wiggles her eyebrow—her breath smells putrid. Guanlin tries to breathe through his mouth instead so he won’t vomit.

_“Not really.”_

“Why? You shy?”

“More like I’m not very interested.”

She frowns. “What?? Why?”

“You’re not my type and you don’t know me, so I doubt that I’m yours. Plus, I’ve already got someone I like,” He explains as an excuse. But it’s not really an excuse because that last bit actually is Very True. He just never talks about it much. Or internally addresses it too, which is probably unhealthy and why every date he’s been on has ended miserably on his end. He just can’t convince himself to like anyone else, but at this point in his life, he’s come to terms with it.

Amidst his inner monologue, the girl begins to cry and a few people turn around to see what’s happening. They’re big, dramatic alligator tears too, but against the sound of the music, it’s barely audible. So Guanlin manages to shuffle awkwardly to the side, literally dragging her with him, and plops her down on a nearby couch where she immediately passes out.

When he’s sure she won’t topple over or anything, Guanlin wipes his hands on his slacks and pushes through the crowd again.

It’s only by some act of divine intervention does he finally find one of his floormates. Thankfully, it’s one that he’s closer to so he can finagle cab money out of him without feeling too bad.

“Hey, Seonho!” He calls, making his way over. Seonho looks to be on the outside of a circle, playing some sort of game from the sound of it. People are whooping and hollering, Guanlin doesn’t pay it much mind since pretty much everyone at the party is making some sort of ruckus, so he forces himself between Seonho and whoever is next to him. “Seonho!!!” He repeats louder this time.

“Oh hey, Guanlin!” Seonho turns around and beams, “You enjoying the party so far?”

“Actually, that’s what I came to talk to you about.” Guanlin yells back, “Do you think you cou—”

But before he can finish his sentence, the circle bursts into loud cheers and suddenly, there are people grabbing him by the shoulders and patting him hard on the back.

Seonho excitedly grips his arm too. “GUANLIN!! IT’S YOU! YOU’RE IT” He screams, bouncing up and down and laughing maniacally.

“WHAT??” Guanlin shrieks as everyone starts crowding in on him.

He catches a glimpse of what was in the middle of the circle before he’s carted away.

It was a wine bottle.

_Pointed directly at him._

Guanlin pales. “NO, WAIT, _NO_—I WASN’T PLAYING, THIS IS A MISTAKE—”

But the next thing he knows, he’s being shoved into a dark storage closet where he stumbles and falls to his knees. Just as he jumps back up and lunges towards the door, it slams shut, right on his face. Guanlin curses and pounds on the door with his fist. When that doesn’t work, he wiggles the handle, hoping it’ll come loose.

“There's no use in trying, it’s locked from the outside,” A voice says. _It’s a familiar voice. _Guanlin spins around.

Although, his eyes are still adjusting to the darkness, there’s a sliver of light from the edges of the door where the wood doesn’t quite meet the frame. It illuminates the person he’s trapped in here with: a boy, who comfortably sits atop an old, foldable table with a drink in his hand.

Time seemingly freezes and Guanlin can hear his heart start to pound in his ears. He thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him—he almost doesn’t want to believe who he’s seeing, but Guanlin is certain he can recognize Jihoon anywhere.

His mouth goes dry. _What is he doing here?_ Guanlin wonders, memories beginning to flood back to him. _Of all places to see him again._

Guanlin remembers the time when he first moved here in kindergarten. He had a strong accent back then, being from Taiwan, and his classmates used to make fun of him for it.

He quickly became an outcast and got used to spending time alone or ignoring the ones who yelled mean things at him.

Jihoon was the person who stood up for him: a strong, second grader who gave all the other kids a lecture to go mind their own business. Jihoon became his first friend, and from then on, Guanlin followed him around like a quiet puppy.

Jihoon always treated him nicely and was there to help him whenever he needed—wipe his tears when he got hurt. Wherever Jihoon went, Guanlin went too. This happened so often that people would question Jihoon where his shadow went when Guanlin wasn’t there, or vice versa.

Guanlin never said much. He was happy listening to Jihoon and following him around. He remembers how hard he cried and begged Jihoon not to go to middle school when the time came because he’d be going to a new school. A different school. Jihoon was shocked, but promised that they’d hang out again.

Those were the loneliest two years Guanlin had ever experienced.

They still met on occasion, and eventually, he entered middle school too. Guanlin started making new friends but he still had a special place in his hart for Jihoon.

When he had to move away, Guanlin was devastated. Jihoon told him that they’d see each other again, but that never happened and he never heard from the elder again…

Guanlin swallows and steps forward. He wants to tell Jihoon that he’s missed him, that he never stopped thinking about him, and that he was his first love.

He stops when Jihoon puts down his cup and stretches out his hand, “I’m Park Jihoon. A junior.”

Guanlin’s heart sinks. _He doesn’t remember. Of course he doesn’t._

Guanlin sucks in a pained breath, he tries not to let it bother him too much. It’s no biggie. It was a long time ago and Guanlin has gotten a lot taller since then. He barely looks like he did all those years ago.

“I’m Guanlin,” He says, shaking his hand. “Lai Guanlin. Freshman year.”

He hears Jihoon hum and take a sip from his drink while Guanlin tries to find a comfortable spot to lean against.

True to its name, this room is definitely used for storage. Along with the table Jihoon is sitting on, there’s a few stacks of boxes, a lawn mower, and a bicycle hanging from the ceiling on a rack. It’s not very big, maybe around 8’ by 5’, but feels smaller since it’s crowded with junk.

“They probably won’t come to get us for about an hour,” Jihoon mentions, his voice still as smooth and relaxing as Guanlin remembers. He shivers. “This game has been going since the beginning of the party, I think. Last couple that was in here stayed for almost 45 minutes until they were let out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup.” Jihoon says, pauses, then takes another swig. It’s alcohol, Guanlin can smell it. “Want a sip?”

Guanlin shrugs. _Maybe he can jog Jihoon’s memory with this kind of time,_ he thinks as he steps closer to the other and accepts his offered cup.

He takes a slow drink, eyes never leaving Jihoon, and carefully hands it back. The drink burns down his mouth like liquid fire. It tastes awful. But from this close, he can make out Jihoon’s features in the darkness.

He’s grown a lot: more defined cheekbones and a strong, gracefully curved jaw. The arch of his nose is more prominent now, but his eyes are still the same. _Beautiful and hypnotizing_. Guanlin remembers Jihoon being bigger, though—_taller_. The elder felt so strong when they were kids, like he could do anything. Now, Guanlin is sure he’s the taller one.

“So, Guanlin,” Jihoon begins, “What brings you to this party?”

“My friends forced me to come. I don’t like parties much, this is actually my first one.”

“No way,” He can hear the smile in Jihoon’s voice, _“You don’t like parties?”_

“Is that surprising?”

“A little.”

“How so?” Guanlin asks, “I’m quite the homebody, actually.”

“You just strike me as the type.”

Guanlin raises his brow, which he supposes Jihoon sees because the shorter elaborates.

“You’re so cute, I’d imagine you’re really popular.”

Guanlin is thankful that it’s so dark in here because he immediately turns red. The alcohol is what’s probably making Jihoon so loose-lipped, he tells himself.

“Thanks, but nah, that’s not the case. I don’t have many friends—I haven’t even been in a real relationship.”

He hears Jihoon choke on his drink a little. _“Really??”_

Guanlin nods.

“Huh,” He states, letting that sit for a bit. “How come?”

It’s then that Guanlin wants to tell him everything. That he only thinks about Jihoon and has worried about him ever since the last day he saw him. But the explanation dies in his throat and he replies instead, “I guess, the best way to put it is that… I’ve been saving myself for someone. I just can’t imagine myself with anyone else.”

“Awww, that’s so sweet” Jihoon coos, before his expression falls regretful, “So, I guess that means there’ll be no kissing in this round of 7 minutes in heaven?”

Guanlin pauses when he hears that and swallows in anticipation. “Why?” He asks, voice a bit deeper now, “Did you want to?”

“A little,” The shorter admits, sipping his drink again. “Like I said, I think you’re attractive.”

Something stirs in Guanlin’s stomach and all his need for Jihoon to remember him dies. All he can think about is how Jihoon wants to kiss him, how can he pass this up?

“Well, I mean,” Guanlin gulps, “Whatever happens in this room, stays in this room, right?”

From the little bit of light, Guanlin can see Jihoon smirking at him now. Eyeing him. “I suppose so. Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

“Never,” He replies more breathlessly than he’d like.

“Then how about I teach you,” Jihoon offers, setting his drink down on the table he’s sitting on, “So you’ll be prepared when you meet the person you’ve been waiting for.”

Guanlin nods almost hypnotically.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

Obediently, Guanlin walks over to where Jihoon’s sitting. The table is high enough so he doesn’t have to bend down too far to come face to face with him. With a space between them, Guanlin leans forward and kisses Jihoon softly on the lips. Sparks flutter across his skin, it’s everything he’s ever dreamed of.

_“Mmm,”_ Jihoon hums, and smiles when Guanlin pulls away. “Cute.”

The response makes him blush. “Was… Was that alright?”

“A little. You’re not quite there yet.”

Guanlin deflates.

“Hey, don’t get all discouraged on me now. It was a nice kiss, all things considered.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. No one’s good at kissing at first, it takes practice,” Jihoon explains. “Show me something a little less ‘high school senior prom’ and more ‘I’ve waited 15 years to kiss you’”

Guanlin nods in determination. “Got it.”

“Good,” He says, beckoning the taller to him again.

This time, Guanlin tilts his head to better slot his lips between Jihoon’s. He does so too forcefully, he thinks, because the shorter lets out a startled gasp that dissipates into a satisfied hum with every slow, apologetic kiss Guanlin presses to his lower lip.

He doesn’t quite know where to go from there, but thankfully, Jihoon starts to take over.

Jihoon angles his head so he can deepen the kiss, sucking and biting down on Guanlin’s bottom lip, briefly swiping his tongue over the wound he made, and kissing him again.

It’s overwhelming. Too much. Guanlin’s knees begin to feel weak and he lets out a little, choked whine, slamming his hand on the table behind him to keep himself upright.

Jihoon tastes like alcohol. A concoction of something sweet and intoxicating. It burns through his veins and settles deep in his stomach, making the room spin and his mind feel blurry. He's addicted.

Guanlin doesn’t know what to do with his hands other than keep one planted on the table and the other at his side. He wonders if he should touch Jihoon, but Jihoon didn’t give him permission to do so—so maybe he shouldn’t. It’s after a moment of awkwardly moving his hand around that Guanlin decides to leave his free hand at his side. But it still feels out of place, so he balls it into a fist, nails digging into his palms. His eyebrows furrow at the pain, and it’s then that Jihoon pauses and withdraws.

“You’re thinking too much,” Jihoon whispers, his voice a bit scratchy now.

Guanlin hangs his head in embarrassment. “I don’t know where to put my hands.”

Hearing this emits a laugh to bubble from Jihoon’s throat. Guanlin loves the sound, if only it weren’t directed at him.

"_A__dorable,”_ He hears Jihoon mutter under his breath, searching him.

It’s quiet between them for a bit, save for their heavy breathing and the muffled sound of the music coming from beyond the locked door. Guanlin notices it’s gotten stuffier in the storage room. Humid. The collar of his button-up feels too tight around his neck now.

“Don’t overthink it,” Jihoon says, snapping Guanlin’s attention back to him. “Just do what’s natural.”

“I… don’t know what’s natural.”

The shorter smiles understandingly. “First, come closer.”

Guanlin steps an inch closer to the table, not expecting for Jihoon to grab him by the elbows and practically position him flush against his chest. _He’s always wanted to be this close to Jihoon again,_ but now that he’s here, he feels like running away—it’s so much.

“Comfy?”

Guanlin swallows and nods, feeling Jihoon’s bangs brush against his forehead when he does so. “Yeah. Give me a sec…”

“Sure.” Jihoon waits patiently, letting the taller get used to their close proximity.

He rests his head on Jihoon’s and focuses on his gentle breaths fanning across his skin. _Jihoon’s eyes are so pretty this close,_ Guanlin thinks. He likes seeing his reflection in them.

It’s after a minute that Jihoon settles back and brushes Guanlin’s bangs from his forehead, tucking them neatly behind his ear. “Okay,” He begins, taking Guanlin’s hand and placing it on him, guiding it to each respective part on his body, “Your hands can go on my waist, my back, biceps, shoulders, neck, and face.”

Guanlin feels like his hand is shaking, cupping Jihoon’s cheek. He nods.

“Feel free to mix it up a little, like one hand on my back and one hand on my neck. Any way you think it’ll help you feel steady or in control,” Jihoon explains. “And another thing, breathe through your nose. It’s easier.”

Guanlin nods again. “Okay.”

“Perfect.”

He decides to hold Jihoon’s waist—it feels right. _Natural_. He's so small and thin in his larger hands, he rubs the protruding bone there with his thumbs and Jihoon sighs contentedly, pressing up and wrapping his arms around Guanlin’s neck, pulling him closer until their noses touch.

Guanlin dips in first, drinking Jihoon’s small whimpers and copying what he remembers. He takes Jihoon’s fleshy bottom lip between his teeth, catching it, biting, then kissing him in apology. The pitched sound it draws from the shorter stirs Guanlin forward, he wants to hear more.

Jihoon's melting in his grasp as he shakily undoes only the first button to Guanlin's collar. Once it's free, he wastes no time running his palm across the back of Guanlin’s neck and the planes above his shoulder blades. It’s such a normal, yet sensitive place. Guanlin’s never noticed. He shudders and exhales to compose himself. Jihoon’s hands feel so warm and perfect against him, he moves his hand to the lower of Jihoon’s back while the other slides up to hold his head in place so he can kiss him deeper. More. He wants more. He needs it. 

“You’re a fast learner,” Jihoon gasps when they part. He huffs, eyes screwing shut when Guanlin noses his way across his cheek to his ear, kissing the junction between his lobe and jaw.

The praise sends shivers down Guanlin’s spine. “So I’ve been told,” He agrees watching goosebumps form on Jihoon’s skin in the wake of his warm breath. He touches that spot with his hands, pecking Jihoon’s bitten, red lips.

“Where’s all this confidence coming from?” Jihoon laughs, “You were stuttering just a few minutes ago.”

Guanlin opts not to say anything, just smiles and kisses Jihoon again, swallowing up the rest of his intoxicating laughter.

They stay like this for a few more minutes until the door suddenly bursts open. Guanlin had totally forgotten that this was all for a game. That this was 7 minutes in heaven.

The light is blinding, and Guanlin squints towards the opening. He can’t see, but he can hear that there’s a crowd because they’re all wolf-whistling and cheering.

“TIMES UP!” Someone screams.

A person mutters, "Yeah like, 30 minutes ago..."

“PUT YOUR DICKS AWAY,” Another jokes.

Jihoon grabs for his drink and hops down off the table. “It was fun, Guanlin,” He says so only he can hear. Jihoon smiles, “Whoever you’re saving those kisses for is going to love it.”

Panic flares in Guanlin’s chest, watching Jihoon walk off. He wants to scream and tell him that those kisses were for _him _and that he wants no one else. But it all happens so fast and before he knows it, Jihoon is gone. Again.

He almost thinks this is all a dream if not for Seonho bull-tackling him hard in the stomach, sending him keeling over. “CONGRATS ON SNOGGING A JUNIOR,” He whistles.

Somewhere next to him, he hears his roommate, Jinyoung, making lewd, mocking kissing noises.

Guanlin doesn’t have time for this right now. “Move—” He commands, pushing through them and the crowd that had gathered by the entrance. But when he’s back in the open, Jihoon is nowhere to be found and the party is over.

“Come on, Guanlin. You’re getting your hopes up, _he’s a junior. You’re a freshman. _Let’s get back, now, before you start crying or something,” Seonho says. “I’ll make you hot chocolate and we can continue watching that drama.”

Guanlin doesn’t think he’s felt this hopeless in his life.

A week passes, but ever since the party, Guanlin hasn’t seen any signs of Jihoon around campus.

He doesn’t want to say he’s given up, but kissing Jihoon doesn’t even feel real anymore. Like, it never happened in the first place.

He’s sitting at his desk doing his homework one morning when his phone goes off. He lowers the volume because Jinyoung is sleeping in the bunk right next to him, pretending he has zero responsibilities for that day.

Guanlin is surprised to see a contact he hasn’t saved texting him, but when he opens it, he knows who it is.

**UNKNOWN NUMBER [10:32AM]**

_Hey. I thought about it, and I don’t really like the idea of you kissing anyone like that._

**UNKNOWN NUMBER [10:32AM]**

_ Anyone besides me, of course._

**UNKNOWN NUMBER [10:33AM]**

_ Anyway, meet me at the coffee shop on campus in 10. We have a lot of catching up to do and I’m not talking about just stuff from this past week._

Guanlin can’t hold back the smile that blossoms across his face.

He bites his lip and sprints out the door as fast as he can.

**Author's Note:**

> lets pretend I didn’t already write a fic where jihoon teaches guanlin to kiss ksdfjksdfjsdf and another fic where pw kisses in a closet LMAOOO KDKSD AND ANOTHER WHERE JIHOON AND GUANLIN ARE CHILDHOOD FRIENDS BUT JIHOON DOESN’T REMEMBER LMAOOOOOOOO  
IM RUNNIN OUT OF IDEAS…………. I’VE WRITTEN IT ALL (no i havent im just uncreative pls)
> 
> send me oneshot prompts on cc @coppercoin or twitter @pocar1sweet  
lets be mutuals (bc I need more pw on my tl. badly.) tell me who u are or just TALK TO ME and I’ll follow back n all that jazz ;)


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